


You're a Distraction

by ShamelessZiam



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamelessZiam/pseuds/ShamelessZiam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the kinkmeme prompt: </p>
<p>Zayn is at the studio late at night when Liam calls him and just wants to talk but Zayn is not really listening because he's trying to focus on recording. So Liam he starts dirty-talking, breathing-heavily into the phone Zayn gets turned on but he tries to ignore it because he's busy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're a Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> The full, complete prompt is here (I edited it a bit in the summary to keep it... mildly pg-13): 
> 
> Zayn is at the studio late at night when Liam calls him and just wants to talk but Zayn is not really listening because he's trying to focus on recording. 
> 
> So Liam tells him he's horny and he starts dirty-talking, breathing-heavily into the phone saying that he's jerking off to his voice.  
> Zayn feels himself getting rock hard but he tries to ignore it because he's busy.
> 
> Then slutty!liam takes it to the next level starts moaning telling him everything he'd do to him and how desperate he is for Zayn's dick inside of him.
> 
> Zayn can't help himself and touches himself, the door opens and Liam comes in, he'd been watching him the entire phone-call and yeah, then they fuck.
> 
> [I wrote this in, like, half an hour so... I'm really sorry if it's extra horrible. Oops.]

He can’t get this fucking verse right. He’s been working on it for the last hour, changing his tempo, changing when he says certain words. All the other boys had filtered out of the studio a while ago, and even their producer had left twenty minutes ago to do God only knows what. Hopefully he’d bring coffee with him when he came back, though.

He’s just starting up again from where Harry’s supposed to leave off when his phone rings. Zayn fishes it out of his pocket and stares down at the screen. If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t answer. But it’s Liam, and even now, when he’s desperate to get this perfect, when he needs to just work and finish this up so he can get home, he can’t ignore him.

“Can’t talk,” Zayn says after hitting the ‘talk’ button. “I’m still in the studio.”

“Still?” Liam asks. He doesn’t sound annoyed at all, but he does sound mildly concerned. “Zayn, you need to take a break.”

“Can’t,” Zayn says distractedly, staring down at the lyrics on the page, pen in hand. He needs to start that word there, maybe, and then the rest of it would fit better. And he could end on that high note there, too, if he just got that part out in the first breath, because not even he can hold his breath that long.

Liam’s saying something but Zayn’s not really listening. He feels a bit bad for that, because he doesn’t like ignoring his boyfriend. In fact, he doesn’t like doing anything to upset Liam, really, because he’s got those fucking eyes, and he’s really good at making a person feel guilty without even trying to. But he’s underlining a word, scratching off a line between two so that he knows when to catch his breath. The paper is covered in his own little notes, mostly because he’s just frustrated with himself. No one else was spending this much time on a single song, but Zayn refused to put his name on something that wasn’t his very best work. He and Liam are similar in that aspect, not just the desire but the need to get something perfect.

Zayn tunes out most of what Liam says, only grunting and replying occasionally, when he absolutely has to. But then Liam says something and Zayn tunes back in for a moment, a frown forming on his face.

“What was that, babe?” Zayn asks, twisting his pen in his fingers.

“I love it when you call me babe,” Liam tells him, making Zayn’s frown deepen. “Fuck, it’s hot. I wish you were home right now.”

Zayn blinks down at his paper, words blurring too much for him to read them. “You -- what?”

“I’m just -- I’m just laying on your bed, and it smells like you, and I couldn’t help but remember how good you smelled the other day when I was fucking you into the mattress. And how good you sounded, too, the way you gasp for breath. Fuck, I’m horny. You should come home, Zayn. Please.”

Zayn closes his eyes for a moment, and he can hear how ragged his own breath is. The thing is, Zayn is aware that Liam’s not the innocent puppy everyone portrays him to be. He knows that Liam’s one hell of a fuck, knows how to give as good as he knows how to take. But Liam is still Liam, and he’s bashful and more reserved than any of the other lads. And he’s definitely not the type of person to initiate phone sex. And yet…

“I wish it was you touching me right now,” Liam moans into the phone. “I--,” His breath hitches. “-- want you so bad, Zayn. So fucking bad.”

“I-- I’m trying to work, Liam,” Zayn says breathlessly. He stares down at the page again, trying to focus on what he had been doing before his pants got uncomfortably tight. He was about to mark something off, something important that he’d worked out in his head, but he can’t remember what it is now. “Babe, I really want to be home with you, too. Fuck, trust me, I’d rather be home in bed with you than here--,”

“I love the way your voice gets rougher after a day in the studio,” Liam says, cutting him off. “Come on, Zayn, give me something to work with here.”

Zayn pulls the phone away from his ear for a moment, staring down at the little device as if it’s suddenly broken, because he hears the implication in Liam’s tone, hears what he’s asking, and there’s no way. There’s just no way, because this is _Liam_.

“What are you doing?” Zayn finds himself asking, if only to confirm his suspicions.

“I’m--,” Liam breaks off with a moan. “-- on your bed. In nothing but those tight black briefs, the ones you like so much. Teasing myself slowly through them, the way you always do. I love the way you do that, make me desperate for it before you give it to me.”

“Fuck,” Zayn breathes. The issue in his pants is now a painfully aching, distracting issue. He can’t help it; he reaches a hand down and presses on the bulge in his pants, trying to relieve some of the pressure, trying to clear his head a bit so he can just get this done and get home to Liam, because he desperately needs to get home to him now.

“Fuck, Z, I need you home,” Liam says, and he sounds so wrecked that it makes Zayn’s heart stutter. “I don’t think you know how much I need you right now. Need you to stretch me open and then fuck into me. Need you to grab my hips and rolls us over so that I can ride you. I need your cock, babe, fuck.”

“Liam,” Zayn somehow manages to get out. He’s not so much pressing down on the bulge in his pants anymore as he is gripping himself through his jeans. It’s not effective, he needs more skin on skin contact. He needs Liam to stop before he goes crazy, because his head is swimming and he feels too hot.

“I’d suck you off first, though,” Liam says abruptly. “Swirl my tongue around the head, because I know you like it. It makes you all breathless, makes you fist your hands in the sheets. And then I’d swallow you down until you hit my throat and you’d jerk your hips up like you always do, but I’d let you. I’d let you throat fuck me until you were so, so close. And then I’d pull off you, leave you just at the edge until you were as desperate to fuck me and I am for you to fuck me right now.”

Zayn gives in, holding the phone against his shoulder so he can reach down and unzip his jeans. He’s tenting his boxers pretty impressively, and he doesn’t hesitate before pushing his hand inside them, leaning with one hand on the table while he grips himself. The sound of Liam’s voice, and the words he’s saying are driving him crazy, and he doesn’t see how he’s possibly going to get home without getting off first. It’s just not possible.

“Faster, babe,” Liam tells him. “You look so good like that, bending over the table, fisting yourself with your pants shoved down to your knees. Like you’re too desperate to get off to wait until you get home.”

Zayn moans into the phone, gripping himself harder just as Liam’s words really sink in. He looks up and finds Liam standing just outside the booth he’s in. His cheeks are red and his lips are swollen, like he’d been biting down on them. Zayn doesn’t even care when his phone hit’s the carpeted ground. He just steps out of his pants and pushes open the door separating them.

“You were here the whole time,” Zayn hisses.

Liam smiles innocently at him and reaches up a hand to brush his thumb across Zayn’s cheek. “You looked overworked. I figured you needed the break, but you weren’t going to take one if I told you to.”

Zayn wants to snap at him for it, but he really can’t. Not when he’s still so hard, and Liam was genuinely just trying to help. Before he can respond Liam is pressing their bodies together, sliding his lips against Zayn in something that’s way too filthy to be considered a kiss, really.

“I really am desperate for you to fuck me, though,” Liam says against his lips.

Zayn groans and pulls back, looking around for a moment. He’s in just his boxers, for fuck sake, and he’s obviously hard. Someone could walk in at any moment, which is why he heads for the studio door, twisting the lock before grabbing his boyfriend roughly by the shoulders. He pushes Liam against the wall -- because, unfortunately there’s not a couch or something more comfortable in the room. There is one of those hard stools but he doubts they’d both find a way to fit on it, let alone fuck on it.

“Really,” Zayn replies, fingers moving for the buttons on Liam’s shirt. He’s got a leg between Liam’s thigh, and Liam’s grinding his hips forward onto it, like he really can’t wait, he needs something now.

“Yeah,” Liam says weakly, nodding his head. “Have been since this morning, when we woke up late and you teased me with that half a blowjob before getting into the shower.”

Zayn pushes away the sides of Liam’s shirt, dragging his nails down his boyfriends chest. Liam’s skin marks easily, far more easily than anyone Zayn’s ever met, and he leaves angry red marks in his wake. He undoes Liam’s pants easily but doesn’t push them down yet, because he’s reaching into Liam’s back pocket, searching for something.

He finds Liam’s wallet and pulls it open, fingers moving past the condom and straight for the small little packet of lube that he’d stashed in there two weeks ago. At the time Liam had frowned at him and told him not to, but Zayn told him it was always good to be prepared. Bet Liam’s appreciating that right now, because Zayn needs to be inside him.

“Turn over,” Zayn orders.

Liam complies instantly, hands splaying out flat on the wall. Zayn tugs at Liam’s shirt first, and Liam has to move back for a moment to shrug it off before Zayn pushes him back against the wall, a bit more rough than he’d usually be, not that Liam seems to be complaining. Zayn puts a hand on the Liam’s back, just between his shoulder blades, holding him in place as he rips open the berry flavoured -- not his favourite, to be honest, but it’s all the drug store had at the time -- lube with his teeth.

He pushes his boxers down, too, and then slicks up his cock before adding the last of the lube to his fingers. He shoves down Liam’s pants, too, noting the fact that Liam isn’t wearing anything underneath them. He leans forward and nips at Liam’s neck before saying, “I was trying to work.”

“I know but--,” Liam cuts off when Zayn shoves two fingers into him without warning. “God, yeah, Zayn. Hurry. Come on. Please.”

“You’re telling me what to do after the shit you just pulled?” Zayn asks. He spreads his fingers a bit, relishing in the soft gasp Liam lets out. “Maybe I should drag it out. Tease you until you really are begging for it.”

Liam turns to meet Zayn’s eyes over his shoulder and says, “You want it just as badly as I do.”

Zayn latches his teeth onto Liam’s shoulder, knowing there will be a light mark there tomorrow. He quirks his fingers a bit, searching for that spot inside Liam, the one that makes his mouth go slack and his eyes go wide. When he fingers it Liam’s nails scratch against the painted wall with a grating sound.

Zayn pushes another finger into him, knowing that Liam’s more than pliant today, stretching easily around his fingers. He stops holding Liam against the wall with his freehand so he can push his hair -- which he didn’t bother to put in its quiff today and is now sticking to his skin with sweat-- off his forehead.

“You think you’re good, babe?” Zayn asks, punctuating his words by brushing against that spot again.

“Y-yeah,” Liam gets out. “More than good. Just -- come on.”

He pushes back against Zayn’s fingers, bracing himself against the wall with only one hand now. Zayn watches as he reaches his other hand down to wrap it around himself and then falls into the wall more, so he’s bent over at the waist, ass sticking out, cheek pressed against the cool wall.

If he didn’t like curling up on the couch with him so much, or waking up with Liam’s head on his chest, or watching Liam kick around a ball with Louis as his shirt clings to his back, he’d want to keep Liam exactly like this forever.

Zayn pulls his fingers slowly out of Liam, noting the way Liam clenched around him before he slipped them out. He wrapped a loose hand around himself while putting his other hand on Liam’s shoulder to keep himself steady. He guides himself to Liam’s hole, nudging in slowly as Liam pushes back on him, always so impatient. He was so tight and warm. Zayn bottoms out and then pauses for a moment, trying to control his breathing so that this would last longer than thirty seconds because, experienced or not, Liam had too strong of an effect on Zayn. Always had him coming to the edge far quicker than anyone else.

“Okay, Liam?” Zayn asks, lips against Liam’s neck.

Liam doesn’t answer with words, but he pushes his hips back against Zayn again, letting out a sound that was far too close to a whimper to be a moan. Zayn pulls out slowly, one hand on Liam’s shoulder, the other on his waist. When he pushes back in, he moves faster, less hesitant.

“Harder,” Liam gasped out.

Zayn’s fingers curl into the skin of Liam’s hip, and he knows there will be tiny, crescent shaped indents there when he releases him. The sound of skip slapping against skin fills the room, battling with Zayn’s grunts and Liam’s unabashed moans. That’s his favourite thing about fucking Liam, or getting fucked by Liam. He’s not ashamed to let you know that he feels good, doesn’t think to hold himself back.

“Hard-- enough-- for you?” Zayn asks, slamming back into Liam with each word.

Liam’s response is nothing but a fucked out, “Zayn.”

Liam comes first, over his hands and the wall. He clenches around Zayn, impossibly tighter, trying to wring Zayn’s orgasm from him the same way Zayn had just done to him. And it doesn’t take long, either, now when Liam’s body seems to sag against him, barely able to hold himself up. Zayn wraps an arm around his waist, keeping him on his feet, and grinds his hips into Liam until he feels that coil inside of him tighten, and his breath hitches, and then he shudders out his release, still buried deep in Liam.

“Have fun -- getting back to work after-- that,” Liam struggles to get out as Zayn carefully pulls out of him.

Zayn sighs and kisses Liam’s shoulder, because he feels like he should be mildly upset at Liam for distracting him from something important, but then, nothing is nearly as important as Liam.

**Author's Note:**

> Just working my way through some unfilled kinkmeme prompts that catch my eye while taking a break from another fic I'm writing. Who needs plot, anyways? :P


End file.
